


hour of the wolf

by ezrastarkiller



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Blood and Injury, Canon-Typical Violence, Closeted Character, Daddy Kink, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, First Kiss, Gay Billy Hargrove, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Mutual Pining, Porn with Feelings, Pre-Slash, Season/Series 02, Sexual Content, Under-negotiated Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-15 15:15:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29438127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ezrastarkiller/pseuds/ezrastarkiller
Summary: Instead of fighting at the Byers’ house on that November night, Billy glimpses King Steve fuckin’ Harrington shoving the limp body of a demo dog into their classmate’s freezer. “What the fuck is that, Harrington.”Every head in the room turns sharply to look at Billy, who strolled through the front door without anyone noticing.Steve stares at him with two huge eyes, still holding that thing. His eyes slide to the side, and then back to Billy. “A freezer."
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Comments: 5
Kudos: 115
Collections: Harringrove Week of Love





	hour of the wolf

**Author's Note:**

> something I literally threw together with the measly ingredients lying around in my cupboards for harringrove week of love – day 3: hurt/comfort || daddy kink! this is mostly an incoherent series of headcanons, but these prompts are just too good to resist! I had to write *something* guys c’mon I see those prompts and my brain goes 💡

Instead of fighting at the Byers’ house on that November night, Billy glimpses King Steve fuckin’ Harrington shoving the limp body of a demo dog into their classmate’s freezer. “What _the fuck_ is that, Harrington.”

Every head in the room turns sharply to look at Billy, who strolled through the front door without anyone noticing.

Steve stares at him with two huge eyes, still holding that _thing._ His eyes slide to the side, and then back to Billy. “A freezer.”

Steve and the party end up huddling around Billy, making him swear not to go shouting about what he’s seen (re: a lifeless interdimensional demon).

“Swear it!” Steve presses him, still cradling the monster in his arms almost like a baby. He points at Billy with a nail-studded bat.

“Billy,” the curly one says in a warning tone. “You have to promise. Swear on everyone’s life–”

Billy scoffs. “Jeez, man, don’t get so heavy! I swear, alright?”

Max and her nerd friends appear mostly unscathed, but their babysitter looks frantic behind the eyes. And at that point, Billy just wants to help.

—

Reluctantly, Billy befriends Steve. The “reluctance” is mutual.

It starts out Billy will show up at Steve’s house, say nothing as he jerks his head and beckons him, and they walk on and on along the train tracks while Steve babbles from time to time knowing Billy is listening, and Billy will sometimes let his hand brush Steve’s for a long moment as they go.

But it doesn’t take long for them to accidentally care for each other more than they originally intended to.

“Were you serious about the girl?” he asks Steve late one evening as they sit at the diner, splitting a large fry.

He mostly asks to rile Steve, and it’s already worth it when Steve pauses with the tip of his thumb in his mouth, licking a glob of ketchup away. But he also has to acknowledge the absolute absurdity of the situation in Hawkins. The invisible situation that he was now a part of.

“El?”

Billy nods. His knee bounces underneath the table at their booth because the glow of the lights on Steve’s face makes him look even more unattainable in Billy’s eyes.

“How many times do we have to go over this? Were you dropped on your head too much as a kid?”

Billy shrugs a shoulder. “Probably.”

Steve gives him a weird look and Billy worries he’ll press him about the stupid comment. But he doesn’t. He looks down at their half-empty french fry boat, picking one up and dragging it through the ketchup. He speaks so quietly that Billy has to lean in. “She really can move shit with her mind, man. And she can do other things, too.” His eyes flick up to Billy’s then. “You know you can’t tell anyone about this–”

_“I know,_ Steve.” Billy rolls his eyes but doesn’t miss the way Steve bites back a grin. “Christ. You’ve said that a million times. I just wanna see her in action, that’s all I’m saying.”

“Who knows,” Steve chirps, pushing the carton away from himself. “Maybe she’ll have to save your ass one day. Then you’ll see her powers up close.” He smiles brightly at Billy, who flips him off.

The exasperated waitress leaves their bill on the edge of the table without a word. Billy reaches for it but Steve takes his hand and pushes it away. Then Steve simply lets his hand rest atop Billy’s for a moment. And, as sad as it seems, Billy could come apart just from this. Just from this.

—

And then Billy can’t keep his hands to himself ever since Steve initiated some type of physical intimacy between them. He needs more, or at least, he needs it constantly.

So even at school he catches himself finding too many excuses to touch Steve. Basketball, interestingly, allows Billy to press his body close to Steve’s in front of everybody while being considered aggressive, rather than the truth which is that Billy is being _indulgent_ in those moments. He burns with it.

—

When Steve glimpses the two large, dark bruises on Billy’s left side of his body — because he had been watching him dress after gym class, because he couldn’t help himself — he is struck speechless. He barely manages to hide the way he gasps at the sight.

Perhaps it is cruel, but after he is dressed and they’re alone, Steve presses his fingers gently against where he knows the bruises are. It’s enough to make Billy’s breath hitch as he clutches Steve’s arm but he doesn’t push Steve away. He’s glaring at Steve, who starts to lift Billy’s shirt in order to inspect him more closely.

“How...” he begins carefully, but this time Billy does push him away.

“Fuck off, Steve.”

“Billy,” Steve breathes but Billy is shouldering past him and leaving. The schoolbell blares again, announcing that he is late to fifth period. His gut sinks.

Billy ignores his calls on Saturday, but shows up at Steve’s unannounced on Sunday. He stretches himself out like a cat on Steve’s neatly made bed but won’t meet his eye as he says, “I was thinking – we should walk to the junkyard. Get shitfaced. Smash some shit.”

“Didn’t know you were talking to me again,” Steve tells him, still sore over how Billy had ignored him the day before. But really he was just worried for him, and he felt guilty for how he’d handled seeing Billy’s bruises. He wasn’t going to mention it right away, though.

“I missed your dumbass.”

Steve lets out a squawk of laughter. _That_ get’s Billy’s attention. His eyes snap up to Steve with a look of awe ghosting across his face.

And because his hair had been shielding his face from Steve’s view, it’s only in that moment Steve is able to see his split lip, and the way a drop of blood starts streaming from Billy’s nose. Billy looks away quickly, cursing as he touches his finger to the blood.

Steve sits next to him and takes his face into his hands before Billy can say something dumb, like _“I’m fine,” or, “fuck off, Harrington.”_

He does try to resist him, though, twisting his face away as if that’ll stop Steve.

“How did this happen? Are you alright?” Steve is almost certain of _who_ did this to Billy, and he wants to throw up. He tries to put a cap on his growing anger for Billy’s sake, and as he does that, his heart clenches painfully in his chest because Billy is just cupping a hand against his nose and giving him a death glare.

“‘M fine,” he tells Steve.

“Come here.” He tugs Billy’s hands, pulling him up off the bed. He guides Billy to tip his head back a bit while he takes his arm and brings him to the bathroom.

He sits Billy down on the closed lid of the toilet and runs a washcloth under warm water.

Billy is wordless while Steve cleans him up and Steve doesn’t ask any more questions he knows Billy won’t answer. After a while, Billy rasps out in a low voice, “I’m sorry.”

Steve inspects Billy’s bloodied bottom lip and acts unfazed. “What are you sorry for?”

“Wasting your time. And… I think I got some blood on your comforter.”

Steve closes his eyes and takes a breath. “I don’t care about that, Billy. And you’re not wasting my time.”

“I could do this by myself.”

“You could,” Steve concedes, examining Billy’s face one last time. “Or you could just let me help you. You know, since I’m your friend.”

Billy is quiet after that. He stays sitting while Steve rinses the washcloth off in the sink. The bloody water stains Steve’s fingers. His hands start to shake a little under the faucet, his eyes prickling, but he swiftly pulls himself together. He scrubs his hands with soap.

Billy stands up, fast. Then he cringes and sways on his feet, going to pinch the bridge of his nose with a, “Jesus _fuck.”_

“Don’t touch it,” Steve bats his hand away from his face and pushes him to sit on the toilet again. “I’ll be right back.”

Steve comes back with ibuprofen and a glass of water, and Billy swallows it down without protest.

“Stay here,” Steve says then. “You can stay the night if you want to, Billy. If you ever need to.”

To his shock, Billy accepts; Steve had prepared to fight him on it but is pleasantly surprised when he doesn’t have to.

They lie back to back on Steve’s bed, immeasurable space between them. It’s only seven o’clock at night and the light outside Steve’s room is cool and blue, but they lie back to back and try to rest.

Eventually, the bedroom is drenched in complete dark. Steve at last shuts his eyes and attempts to doze off a little. Billy tosses and turns beside him. Steve feels a pang of sympathy for how uncomfortable Billy probably is with his busted lip and sore nose.

Hours go by and Steve doesn’t sleep a wink. Doesn’t move as Billy gets up out of the bed to use the bathroom. Still doesn’t let on that he’s awake when Billy returns.

And hours after that, Steve is still awake as the room brightens again in the early morning. That’s when he hears Billy inhale sharply, and then exhale through his mouth. Billy starts to cry silently, but Steve knows that he is without having to look.

But he can’t not look. He can’t ignore Billy’s pain. Before he can turn over, Billy is speaking.

“Steve? Are you awake?” His voice is shaky.

Steve turns around slowly with his eyes closed. When he does open them, Billy’s face is there beside his on the pillow. His eyes are red and watery as he swipes a thumb under his nose and Steve _wants_ to reach out and comfort him but doesn’t know how Billy will react.

“What’s the matter, Billy?”

Nothing.

“Billy?”

Billy doesn’t answer. Just keeps looking at him, until Steve throws all hesitation out the window and wraps his arms around Billy. Billy trembles slightly.

“You’re okay. You’re safe with me, Billy. I got you.”

Steve wants to commit homicide. He’s going to _kill_ Neil Hargrove.

They stay like that for twenty, maybe thirty minutes. Steve actually starts to doze off, until Billy shifts around in his grasp. Steve pulls away but doesn’t fully release him, only putting space between them so he can read Billy’s expression.

And Billy just stares at him like he did before.

He stares until Steve chuckles uncomfortably and whispers, “What?”

He is not at all prepared for Billy to surge forward and kiss him. Just once, quickly. Steve is so dumbstruck, he wonders if it even happened at all.

“Ow,” Billy whines softly, cringing as he touches his nose.

Steve takes Billy’s hand and moves it from his face, leaning in. He tilts his head, careful not to touch his nose, and presses their lips together for a couple long seconds.

Steve pulls away but only to cradle Billy’s head and kiss him yet again. He touches his tongue to Billy’s lower lip, forgetting about the cut until Billy lets out a small whimper. “Sorry–” he apologizes immediately and goes to pull away, but Billy chases his mouth and cuts him off by dragging Steve’s bottom lip into his mouth with his teeth. Billy’s hands curl into weak fists against Steve’s chest, and he pulls him closer by his t-shirt.

The birds outside are beginning to wake up and greet each other when they pull apart. They intertwine their fingers and play with each other’s hands for a long while, until Billy speaks quietly.

“I like–” and then Billy cuts himself off, turning his face away from Steve’s on the pillow. “Never mind,” he mumbles, turning back to Steve with a sheepish grin. “It’s nothing. It’s stupid.”

Steve looks at Billy for a long time. Long enough for Billy’s nonchalant façade to fall away completely. Steve reaches out, tucking Billy’s curls behind his ear. Then, he cups Billy’s cheek and leans in, connecting their lips.

When they part, Billy can’t suppress the goofy smile that turns his cheeks up, running his pendant over his lips. He looks at their feet. “I was just gonna say,” Billy says it low, like a secret, “I like the way you say my name.”

“Good.” Steve turns into him, tangling their legs together. “I like saying your name.” To prove his point, Steve leans into Billy’s neck and mumbles into his ear, “Billy Billy Billy _Billy,”_ until Billy tries to escape, turning his head away.

“That tickles,” he huffs, laughing.

After a while, Steve starts to doze a little, his face pressed to Billy’s shoulder. Before Billy leaves, he says, “Thank you.”

Steve wants to say so much to that. Instead, he tells him the simplest truth: “You’re always welcome.”

—

Nothing like that happens again for weeks. They go on as if Billy didn’t show up to Steve’s house, bleeding, and like they didn’t kiss each other because they were starving for it.

That is, until it’s spring and the lasting sunshine starts to wake everything in Hawkins up. Billy is climbing up through Steve’s window one foggy afternoon as Steve is struggling to write an essay. He drops his pencil for Billy.

“Hi,” Steve says, unsure.

Billy stands there and slides his hands into the pockets of his jean jacket. “Hey.”

Steve closes up his notebook and pushes his books off to the side, clearing a spot on his bed for Billy to sit.

“Sorry I barged in. I just wanted to see you.”

Steve can’t hide his smile from Billy as he sits on the edge of Steve’s bed. Then he drags his hands out of his pockets and traces idle patterns into Steve’s comforter. “No worries,” he tells Billy truthfully. And then he sees his bloody knuckles.

He picks his pencil back up and clenches it in his fist discreetly.

“How did that happen?” He asks calmly after a while of them not saying anything.

Billy turns his head to look at Steve in confusion; he’s relieved that he doesn’t have any marks on his face to accompany the broken skin of his knuckles. Steve touches his pencil to Billy’s hand to indicate what he means.

“Oh,” Billy makes a fist and looks at his own hand before waving Steve off. “It’s nothing. I’m good.”

“Liar,” Steve blurts. He regrets it for only a second, though. He’s unable to allow Billy back into his shell, back beyond his walls where he never says what he’s really thinking and where he never asks for help.

Steve doesn’t stop there. “How’d you get those bruises? Practice?” His eyes flicker from Billy’s face for a split second, and Billy knows that Steve knows basketball doesn’t give someone bruises like that. “Did you get in a fight with someone?”

Billy chews his lip. “You could say that,” he grits out. “Look, Harrington, don’t wor–”

Steve shows that he’s not listening by reaching for Billy’s shirt and pushing it up so he can interrogate Billy about the bruises some more.

Billy grabs Steve’s hand and stops him from revealing more of his bare skin. He grips his wrist, hard. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he snarls.

Steve glares back at him.

“Why do you even give a shit, Steve?” Billy’s voice is dangerously close to hysterical, but he reigns it in and keeps his tone as cold as he can.

“Why won’t you let me see?” Steve’s voice is much softer than the look he’s got fixed on Billy. It makes Billy ache all over. “If it’s not a big deal, then let me see.”

Billy almost cracks.

“Please, Billy,” Steve adds quietly, and then Billy does crack. He releases Steve’s wrist.

Steve silently watches Billy shrug out of his jacket and take his shirt off. There are a couple marks that are fading, angry purples and blues disappearing into ghost-like yellows and greens. Steve notices with an enraged twitch of his lip that there’s one new bruise, just under Billy’s rib. He tries not to flinch at the sight.

Steve reaches out and ghosts his fingers over the bruise, barely touching Billy’s skin and yet it makes Billy pull in a quick lungful of air. Billy is staring at Steve’s carpet.

He holds his rage at bay for Billy’s sake; the last thing he needs is more anger, more bitterness. He doesn’t ask, _‘Who did this to you?’_ like they both know he’s thinking and they both know he knows. Instead of saying anything, he guides Billy back onto the bed, making him lie on his back with a gentle press to his shoulders.

“What–” Billy starts to ask him but Steve straddles his hips, making him fall quiet.

He runs his hands over Billy’s bare skin, feeling his lungs expand and contract where his hands dance up his sides. “Is this okay?” Steve asks him and Billy nods quickly.

Billy’s hands twitch where he has them lying against his chest.

“Go ahead,” he tells Billy. “Touch me.”

Billy leans up on an elbow, his mouth parted. He reaches out a tentative hand for Steve and merely rests it against Steve’s chest. He rubs up and down experimentally, and then keeps rubbing his hand against Steve’s clothed chest. Soon, Billy brings both hands to grasp at Steve’s sides, his short nails raking down Steve’s thighs through his jeans.

Steve takes Billy’s hands in his and brings them to his lips where he kisses Billy’s split knuckles reverently, making sure that Billy watches as he does so. He intertwines their fingers, holding Billy’s hands against the bed while he leans down and, eventually, connects their lips. They make out like that, Steve on top of him, squeezing each other’s hands in silent pleas for more. Steve’s hands release Billy’s to slide into his hair, gripping at the roots as he gets Billy to sit up. Billy’s hands make quick work of getting Steve’s own shirt off, and then they’re all over him.

Steve gets off of his lap, but only so he can move lower between Billy’s legs. He plants his knees on the floor at the edge of his bed.

He sucks Billy’s cock with a loving fervor. Billy makes these sweet, broken sounds, throwing an arm over his burning hot face. Steve reaches up blindly and grabs at Billy’s hand, bringing it to his head. He _wants_ Billy’s hand there. Billy groans and tangles his fingers in Steve’s soft hair, curling his toes at the way it makes Steve hum around his length. Billy forgets about everything else in the world that’s not the beautiful boy in front of him.

He comes inside Steve’s mouth. Steve swallows around him, and when they kiss again he can taste himself on Steve’s lips. He wants to return the favor – has wanted to for months now, _real bad_ – but he’s fading fast and Steve is kissing his neck and saying, “You can sleep right here with me, alright?”

—

Two days later, Billy shows up at Steve’s house again and presses himself into Steve, backing him up against his bedroom door and kissing him fiercely. He missed him, missed touching him like this. He missed his smell, and the way his eyes look whenever he smiles at Billy. He missed him as if they’d been apart for a year, and not just one day.

And Billy’s wishes of getting his mouth on Steve’s cock come true.

“Oh, baby,” Steve groans, hips stuttering forward. Billy grunts, bobbing on Steve’s length. “Your mouth is so perfect. You love sucking my cock, don’t you?”

Billy moans desperately and then sucks hard, making Steve hiss.

“Good boy,” Steve purrs and pets his hair. “My good-looking boy.”

In response, Billy’s throat goes totally lax around him. He whimpers.

Steve sees that Billy’s touching himself through his jeans. “Don’t worry. I’m gonna take care of you. Make you feel good.”

Steve is nearing his orgasm all too soon. “Billy,” he gasps out in warning. He’s trying to hold on for the ride while Billy sucks him off with even more enthusiasm at the promise of Steve coming down his throat. Steve’s hands remain tangled in Billy’s hair and he strokes his wild curls. Billy hums around him, the vibration causing Steve’s balls to seize up. He tugs Billy’s hair at the roots, the slick heat and skill of Billy’s mouth making pleasure crash over him like waves.

“Baby boy,” he groans, cock pulsing while he comes inside Billy’s mouth.

Billy gazes up at him through his lashes, mouth still full of Steve’s dick.

“So good. So good for Daddy.”

It slips out while Steve is still stupid due to his mindblowing orgasm. But it _ignites_ something in Billy. His eyes roll back as he swallows around Steve, whining high in the back of his throat because he can feel his own trapped dick spurt out pre. He lets Steve’s wet cock slide from between his lips, some drool and semen dripping out of his mouth.

“Goddamn, Steve,” Billy tries to laugh but it comes out hoarse, and he’s so turned on he doesn’t know what to do with himself. “Or should I say…”

Steve waves his hand, cheeks flushed. “No, that was–that was an accident. I didn’t mean to say that. Just – lie back, would you?”

“I liked it,” Billy tells him. “A lot, actually.”

The face Steve makes then is _amazing._ Billy almost laughs out loud at him, but doesn’t.

He tells Steve he wants to get fucked by him.

“You sure?”

“I’m so sure.”

So Steve lays him on his side and lies down beside him. He stretches Billy with his long fingers, not a single shred of urgency laced into the act. Makes Billy whimper and shove back into his hand, whispering, “Daddy,” under his breath. Takes Billy just like that, his thrusts slow and deep, grinding his hips perfectly and teasing at his prostate with every minute movement. He bites down on Billy’s shoulder when he comes once again, gripping Billy’s thigh and keeping his legs spread until his hips slow. Billy wants to be devoured. He slides a gentle hand from Billy’s hip to his weeping dick, jerking him as he fucks into Billy slowly, aiming to get him off. Billy cries out beautifully and covers Steve’s fingers with his release. He looks back and catches the way Steve is looking at him – like he’s precious, something to be treasured. He swallows and Steve wastes no time, kissing him languidly while he softens inside Billy and Billy softens in his grasp.

And of course, they have many conversations about it moving forward, though starting out is not easy. Especially for Billy, who finds that words evade him when he tries to talk about all the noise in his head. But they talk about it, and not just about the whole “daddy” thing, but all of it – their relationship, the bruises, everything. And after they have their shit sorted, it’s not uncommon for Steve to spread Billy out like a blanket on their bed and make love to him, taking him out of his head for a while. Quieting all that noise.

**Author's Note:**

> comments are always appreciated! <3


End file.
